alea iacta est
by the insane have strength
Summary: The die has been cast. Dean finds love again, & Sam stumbles upon some of his own. Canon-compliant, slight AU, NOT WINCEST. Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC. M for language, graphic violence, mature themes, sexual content, character death, & the ultimate sexiness of Team Free Will. Takes place 2x09 onward. Prompts from Imagine Dragons.
1. i: leave this town (sam)

**Title:** alea iacta est

**Summary: **The die has been cast. Dean finds love again, and Sam stumbles upon some of his own. Slight AU, NOT WINCEST. Dean/OFC, Sam/OFC.

**Rating:** M for language, graphic violence, mature themes, sexual content, and character death.

**Beta:** Proofreaders outside of .

**Characters:** Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, various supernatural beings, Winchester family, Campbell family, various hunters, various canon, various OCs.

**Pairings:** Dean Winchester/OC and Sam Winchester/OC centric. Mentions of Dean Winchester/various canons, Dean Winchester/various OCs, Sam Winchester/various canons, Sam Winchester/various OCs, various canon pairings, various canon/OC pairings, various OC/OC pairings.

**Setting:** Various locations across United States of America. Centric in Pieria, California.

**Genres:** Adventure, Angst, Crime, Drama, Family, Fantasy, Friendship, General, Horror, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Romance, Sci-Fi, Spiritual, Supernatural, Suspense, Tragedy.

**Status:** In Progress.

**Disclaimer: **Canon material is owned by Eric Kripke (and Kripke Franchises), Warner Bros. Television, Wonderland Sound and Video, and The CW. This would not be FanFiction if I owned the Supernatural franchise, so don't expect me to act like I do. Unless stated as otherwise, all original characters and plotlines are fictional. If there is any similarity to situations in other stories or real-life circumstances that you may recognize, it is purely coincidental. Pre-chapter lyrics go to Imagine Dragons because they are pretty godly.

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chapter i: leave this town

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"_**I got to leave this town and run to you."**_

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November 2006.

* * *

This was crazy. This was absolutely crazy. This was absolutely fucking crazy. This was beyond that, even. This was insane, ludicrous, idiotic, fucking crazy. This was, quite possibly, the craziest thing that Sam and Dean Winchester had ever done. This surpassed continuing on with the family business of ridding the world of every creepy undead or dead or half-dead or never-alive thing that dared crawl up from the fires of Hell. This... now this was far, far crazier than anything that they had even heard of.

Sam and Dean were taking a vacation.

It wasn't intended to be a very long vacation, just a week or so, but it was the lengthiest holiday that Sam had had since his days in the normality of American college life at Stanford, and the longest that Dean had ever had in... a really long time, anyway. Years, maybe. Sam didn't know if Dean had ever taken a holiday, really, aside from those days that he used to lie in bed next to a woman, recharging himself for a next round of something that his brother didn't even want to begin to think about Dean doing.

After that traumatic – to put it lightly, Dean was swearing about it for hours after they left and only in the past couple days had Sam been able to stop his hands from shaking – experience with the Croatoan virus in River Grove, Oregon, they had decided that it would be best to take a breath.

A long breath.

A week-long breath.

It was partially because they wanted to be sure that Sam was alright and definitely wasn't going to show symptoms of being infected with the zombifying, demonic virus.

Neither of them wanted to find themselves in the middle of another case and suddenly present the need for Dean to take care of – in the nurturing sense as well as the ganking sense – his baby brother who suddenly developed a surprisingly insatiable appetite for human innards. Dean wasn't keen on spilling out his heart and guts on the best of days, during any heart-to-hearts that Sam tried to initiate; there was no way he would be eager to literally spill out his insides.

Thankfully, the eldest Winchester hadn't had reason to spill anything out of anything over the past six days since they had left Oregon. One day more and they could be certain that he would be okay. Bobby had said that, if the virus was a test run, like they suspected, then the effects would be completely out of his blood before the week was up, if it was discontinued – which it was, they were sure; there hadn't been any other breakouts – and Sam could go back to demon-ganking.

They could go back to four hours of sleep after being awake for three days straight.

They could go back to long mornings and afternoons spent researching, interviewing, and trying to find lore on how to beat whatever they were up against.

They could go back to almost-room-temperature soda, greasy diner food, and too many beers – whiskey for Dean if the case had been exceptionally tough – consumed in seedy bars where the music was only country or '90s soft rock. They could go back to Sam watching Dean leave with girls on his arm for a night of forgetting his life.

They could go back to busty and attractive women using their feminine wiles in hopes that Sam, like his brother, would want to escape reality for a short, short night.

But he couldn't forget.

It didn't matter how hard he tried, how many women he fucked – because that's all it was anymore, and he knew it, just a quick screw and a few moments of bliss with his face buried in the warm crook of her neck before he showered, dressed, and left without even saying goodbye – or how many demons he sent back to Hell.

He couldn't forget. And at this stage of the game, he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to. It wouldn't make a difference, anyway. Mom would still be dead, Jess would still be dead, Dad would still be dead, and he and Dean would still be damned to a half-life of shooting spirits and digging up graves and stumbling around blindly looking for closure and sticking their dicks in girls... all because they were trying to forget.

Sam was tired of trying to forget.

He was ready to try living for once. And not running away, he had tried that already when he went to Stanford, but living alongside his looming death. He knew that he was going to die young, he had resigned himself to the fact. When this resignation had happened, he wasn't too sure, it must have been somewhere halfway between forever ago and tomorrow.

After Dean had almost died and their dad had actually died – for real this time, not just lost or gone missing or ended up injured, but one hundred percent dead – Sam had given up on his dream of an apple pie life. He knew now that he wasn't going to ever have those things that he had once wanted so badly – more than anything.

If Dean only knew what was going on inside not-so-little-anymore Sammy Winchester's brain, he would whack him upside the head and tell him to fucking enjoy this vacation.

Right. Vacation.

They were in New York City, of all places, a city that they had only occupied once on supernatural business, when they were hunting a Belker back in 2000, which surprised Sam that that was a whole six years ago. The turn of the century had been six years ago. Huh. Anyway, Dean had – pathetically – tried to convince him that, since the Big Apple was so, well, big, there would be less chance of them stumbling upon a case. Sam had only countered this with a logical reasoning that, since there were more people in the city, there would be more chance of one of them being a demon. Dean's rebuttal involved a lot of huffing and a 'well then there's more chance there'll be another hunter there too'.

But Sam, eager to just get on with this unexpected week of relaxation, had thrown caution to the wind and put on his 'what the hell' attitude, and agreed to go to New York, New York. They had splurged on a really nice room in a chain hotel, with adjustable bed firmness, never-ending hot water, a complimentary continental breakfast, and more pillows than they could ever want. It was on the expensive end of rooms, sure, but when the credit card of some rich tycoon was paying for it, they were sure that they could afford it.

Sam was currently in the shower, letting the near-scalding water beat down on his scarred and abused body, washing away the sins and fears that clung to him like a second skin. He had been in there for half an hour at least, something that was uncharacteristic of him to do; he was wont to quickly, efficiently scrubbing the blood, sweat, and filth off of his body before bouncing back for another round of fighting the supernatural. But today, right now, the younger Winchester brother was simply standing under the streams of water, neglecting to lather himself in the complimentary soap and instead just letting himself relax under the steady flow. He had been doing nothing but since he stepped in. This New York hotel had been good to him, to both of them, supplying them with good breakfasts and bottles of shampoo, conditioner, soap – and body lotion, which neither of them would admit to using because the notion was kind of girly, but somehow the contents were subtly dwindling because hey, who didn't like having moisturized skin – and fresh linens every single day – they had allowed housekeeping to come in and freshen things up when they weren't there, since they weren't working a case and therefore didn't have lore books, runes, sigils, and symbols, or weapon cases strewn across the room.

Sam also had the room entirely to himself at least once a day. Dean left every afternoon, disappearing – practically untraceable – for hours, and returning with supper. Sam had contemplated confronting his older brother about these disappearances, but attributed Dean's strange – ish – behaviour to what could be his brother's way of coping with their father's death and everything that had happened since then. The elder brother wasn't as keen to express his feelings as his younger brother, who was already pretty closed off, so this meant that there was a lot of brow-furrowing from both of them, a lot of sighing from Sam, and a lot of colourful, defensive language from Dean.

Dean dealt with things in the way that Dean dealt with things, which was unfortunately not the way that Sam dealt with things and therefore it was extremely different for the taller Winchester to understand what it was that would make his brother tick normally again. Sam had seen his brother out with his beloved Impala after their dad died, fixing it up like in his own personal way of avoiding a world without their father... Sam had also seen Dean wreck that very car in evident anger and frustration, which was Dean's other coping mechanism that appeared just as often, only with Sam on the receiving end of it rather than the '67 Chevrolet.

He wished Dean would just lose all of the effing bravado and talk about what was bothering him.

Not that he was really keen on heart-to-hearting with his brother, but if it would fix Dean, then in God's name he would do anything. He would give anything for his brother and him to not be broken anymore.

He didn't care if they still fought all of those goddamn Hell-crawlers, he just wanted to be whole again, to not have to worry whether his brother was going to fall apart at the seams. Sam wanted to remember what it felt like to be human. Well, he was human, literally, but it felt like all the humanity had long since abandoned him and his tougher-than-nails older brother.

Still human but feeling lesser than, Sam turned off the shower-head, catching the last few drips in the caruncles in the inside corners of his eyes. He wiped the water from his eyes and stepped out into the steamy bathroom, grabbing one of the fluffy white towels from the back of the toilet and drying himself with it. He turned the fan on, letting the generated air clear away some of the shower fog. Looking at himself in the clearing mirror, he almost chuckled at the sight of a man who appeared relaxed, happy even, and knotted the towel around his hips. It had been so long since he had felt relaxed, and he was certainly going to miss that feeling when their little teaser of a vacation ended.

Sam was going to miss the tall, glowing man in the mirror with messy shower hair that probably needed an inch or two lobbed off, who didn't have any gaping wounds, fresh stitches, or a spectrum of bruises juxtaposed against the tanned expanse of his skin. He was going to miss Happy Sam when he went back to being Hunter Sam, Stoic Sam... Miserable Sam, Lonely Sam.

"Dinner's here!" Dean was back. And with food. This appealed to all of the Sams, and the younger Winchester ducked out of the bathroom, still in the towel. "Ugh, no thank you," The elder wrinkled his nose humourously at the sight of his brother clad in nothing but a hotel towel, and politely turned around to look out the window as Sam chuckled, shaking his head, and clothed himself properly.

"Have a good time?" Sam asked goodnaturedly a minute later as he guided his belt through the belt loops of his jeans. Dean shrugged and made a characteristic, noncommittal grunt, pulling the curtain aside and looking out below, not turning around lest he face his brother in another indecent state. He suddenly pulled his phone out of his back pocket and pressed a couple buttons – checking for missed call, presumably – and, with a frustrated huff, tossed it down on the windowsill.

"S'alright." He mumbled, composing himself, looking over his shoulder as Sam ebulliently attacked the takeout bag. The latter frowned as he pulled out a series of cartons. After so many months of traditional American takeout – cheeseburgers, fries, the like – and greasy diner food, these little boxes were almost foreign to him. It was almost unbelievable to him that Dean had ordered – "Chinese." Dean confirmed as Sam eyed the cartons suspiciously.

"Since when do you like Chinese food?"

"Since none of your business." Dean retorted, snatching a pair of chopsticks out of one of Sam's large hands and sitting down on the chair at the desk, crossing his legs and tearing open his carton of what Sam assumed to be General Tso's chicken. He wondered why Chinese food was such a touchy subject. It was difficult to get less personal than egg rolls and chicken chow mein; why was Dean being defensive regarding a simple question about dinner? Maybe there was something else bothering him. Maybe something had happened while he was out... maybe he had a nasty run-in with a demon – or worse: one of his famous ex-one-night-stands – and it rattled him.

Wait, since when did Dean get rattled over little things like demons or women? He didn't. Ever. Sam frowned into his carton of beef with broccoli before flashing a glance at his brother. Dean was viciously trying to pick up the chicken with the chopsticks, failing again and again. Sam set down his meal.

"Dean,"

"Who designed these fucking things, NASA?" Sam could only watch as Dean abandoned half of the pair of chopsticks, choosing instead to stab the pieces with just as much vigour as he had in his previous attempts. Yup. Dean was upset. Very upset. Something had shaken him, something big, something that maybe had been messing him up all week. Something had been gnawing at him for some time now. Something... something that Sam didn't know about. Something that Sam knew had nothing to do with himself. Dean had a secret. He had a secret that he wasn't sharing with his little brother because why would he, why would he suddenly do something this out of character and betray his macho-man facade? Sam knew it was a fucking facade, Dean knew Sam knew it was a facade, but that still didn't mean that Dean would admit to himself that he was wearing a mask. As far as Sam was concerned, his brother was living – struggling, no doubt, but still living – in his own lie.

He sighed. There were more important things to concern himself with – like how good this beef with broccoli was and how much of a weirdo his troubled brother was being. Dean made eye contact with Sam over a large and messy – disgusting for his little brother to look at – mouthful of Chinese food. "What?" He scoffed, chewed, and swallowed. "Why're you looking at me like I'm a head case?"

"Because you are a head case." Sam deadpanned... although he was, actually, half-serious.

"Ha ha. Very funny, Costello." Dean said cynically, javelin-throwing his spare chopstick at his brother. Sam let out a laugh, fully relieved to see his brother's shoulders relax and the muscles in his defined jaw stop clenching so damn hard.

"So, what did you do today?" Sam asked sweetly, a glimmer of the apple pie life the two of them had never had. Dean's jaw went stony again, and Sam sighed quietly.

"What's it to you, mom?" Again with the sarcasm. Sam rolled his eyes, finally resigning to the fact that he was never going to get a good answer.

"Nevermind, it's-"

'Smoke On The Water' started to play.

Dean turned around to look at his phone, sitting on the sill of the window. "What the..." Sam shrugged, genuinely confused. Who could possibly be calling them? Bobby knew they were on vacation, and nobody else really had this number. Dean stood up and stared at the phone as it proudly garbled out the Deep Purple lyrics. Sam was hit by the sudden realization that something supernatural could have somehow – ridiculously – attained this number. Maybe it was a demon that wore the meat of some phone-company-working human, or a shifter, or anything that just needed Dean to pick up the phone so that they could trace the call. But maybe, as impossible as it seemed, it could be some degree of law enforcement.

Nah, that was a stupid notion... or was it?

It was only hubris, really, that had Sam and Dean so confident that they could pull off credit card scams and breaking and entering and what sure as hell looked like murders. It was bound to bite them in the asses some time around. They had already dealt with Hendriksen back in October; seeing him again was the last thing they needed. And on a vacation too... Sam figured that if he cashed in all his bad luck, he would be able to sustain both his and Dean's careers as hunters for the rest of their lives without card scams... and they would at least be able to afford official hunter jackets with their names embroidered on the breast, if anything of the sort existed.

After losing himself in his imagined world of wealth for a moment, the taller Winchester brother snapped back to the real world of zero income and no embroidered jackets. Dean's phone was still ringing. Sam was just about to deter him from answering, when Dean picked up and did exactly that.

"What the hell, Bobby-" Sam watched as his brother's face contorted into undiluted confusion.

"What does he want?" The younger whispered. Dean met his brother's eyes and shook his head.

"Who the hell is this?" He barked into the phone. His expression morphed again into a look that Sam was sure he had never seen before. The look on the elder brother's face was a cocktail of total disbelief, relief, unabashed happiness, and uncertainty. Dean cleared his throat. Sam, concerned, searched his brother's face for something that he would recognize. Then Dean choked out a name, "Char," and Sam was more confused than ever. Maybe it wasn't a name, or maybe he had misheard him. What the hell, he hadn't misheard him or misunderstood him, Sam's hearing was as perceptive as ever and Dean had just said 'Char'. Sam set down the beef with broccoli, and folded his arms across his chest as he watched his brother lean his free arm against the window, half-hiding his face from his younger brother.

"Dean, who is it?" Sam asked.

Dean ignored him, now slightly smiling into the phone as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. "You thought I wouldn't... Jesus Christ, of course I'd remember you." Sam cleared his throat loudly. Dean gave him the one-finger salute and grinned at nothing in particular. And then there was silence. He exhaled loudly. "Yeah, yeah it has." He ran a hand through his short hair, and Sam rolled his eyes, abandoning this conversation and resuming the devouring of Chinese food. He stuffed half of a spring roll in his mouth as Dean said "Me too... where are you?" Sam chewed, swallowed, and sighed. He felt like this conversation was going to take a turn for the sexual and he wanted to be anywhere but here when it happened. He wasn't ready – he would definitely never be ready – to witness his brother doing anything or talking about doing anything over the phone. Was it too late to rent another hotel room?

Sam sighed again as his sourer-than-lemons brother got a goofy, sweeter-than-sugar smile painted all over his face. "Dean-"

"Great." And then Dean chuckled. He actually chuckled. Dean. Chuckled. "See you in a couple days." Goddamnit, Dean Winchester. Sam groaned as goddamn Dean Winchester said a short farewell to the person on the other line and ended the call.

"What the hell was that about, Dean?" He cried. Dean turned around to face him with a manic grin. If Sam didn't know any better, he would say that something possessed him through the phone. Of course, that was entirely impossible. Demons and spirits couldn't possess anybody through the phone, unless the phone itself was haunted, which it wasn't because Sam and Dean had sprayed everything in the room with salt water to identify spirits hanging around. The only logical thing that would have worked would have been a spell, and there were no hex bags in the hotel room; Sam checked every day.

"Pack your bags, Sammy boy, we're going to Cali!" Okay, cool, so now Dean was crazy. Wow, thanks mystery caller. Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. Dean was the un-peppiest person in the history of the world, and now he was eager to go to one of the peppiest places in the United States? Hmm, nope, nothing weird here, just Dean being definitely not Dean.

"California? Why?" Sam humoured him, curious as ever but more curious to find out why the California craze had suddenly infected his brother. Oh God, was this another sort of Croatoan virus? One that made you extremely happy and then made you kill a lot of people and eat their insides with a side order of fries? This was one of the instances where Sam would have given practically anything for a normal, predictable life, where he could actually take holidays without worrying about something catching up with them or finding them.

"'Cause it's too cold here, and I want a sunny vacation." Dean replied as coolly as the crisp November air outside, losing a trace of the mania that had disfigured his face into an oddly happy look.

"You were the one who insisted on coming to New York..." He munched on the words and his last bite of his beef with broccoli, gesturing with the chopsticks.

With that remark, Dean's face returned mostly to its normally stern setting. "And now I'm insisting that we go to Pieria."

"Pieria?" What the fuck was a Pieria? Sam raised his eyebrows as Dean, visibly exasperated and almost completely wrung out from the exertion of all of that positive energy.

"It's near L.A., some little nowhere town or something." Dean shrugged, inhaling more of his Chinese and grabbing the other spring roll. He stuffed a large bite of it in his mouth as well, and Sam wrinkled his nose and recoiled at the sight. Why did his brother have to be so... gross? Meaning, Sam wasn't the ultimate gentleman, but Dean did have to be so... gross? There really was no other word for it in Sam's mind.

He rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh." Dean gestured with the other half of the spring roll, pointing it towards his brother. A bean sprout flew out and landed on Sam's bare forearm. He flicked it away, watching it land.

"I mean... the smaller the town, the less risk that there'll be something bad waiting there for us."

"That doesn't make any sense at all, Dean." Sam argued. "Besides, you said the opposite to make us come to New York." Dean shifted uncomfortably as he chewed on the spring roll before he paused.

"Just think about it: sun... ocean... girls..." Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly, impatiently waiting for his answer. He was answered with another eye roll.

"What if I don't want to go?" Sam knew he was being difficult. He knew that for some strange, probably fucked-up reason, it was dead important for his brother to go to Perry-whatsit. And when Dean set his mind to something, wild hellhorses couldn't drag him from his goal.

Dean replied like Sam knew he would: "Tough. We leave tomorrow, so start packing, bitch."

"Jerk." He replied, his word in good nature as it always was. Even Dean's characteristically stoic mask couldn't hide the broad, dimpled grin that spread across his face. He smiled down into his General Tso's as he gobbled the rest down and stood up, stretching widely. Sam chuckled to himself, half sad to be leaving the excitement of New York City.

But he knew that Dean had to leave this town and run, run to whoever it was that he was so desperately lacking.

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**note:**

Hi, I write. If you're unfamiliar with my work (which you probably are), I mostly write for the Potterverse because like wow why would I turn down those opportunities. I've only been really into Supernatural for a few months, but I got REALLY into it, as those of you in the fandom probably understand quite well.

So, the first four chapters of alea iacta est are all from one character's point of view, just so you guys get to know my main original characters and how I write Sam and Dean (because I'm nothing like them and don't know the characters well enough - I'm almost done season eight as of August fifth, 2013 so it's not that I haven't watched them enough, it's just that I still haven't totally gotten into their heads in words). But after that it's mostly just things happening because who doesn't like when things happen, right?

Forgive me if you're a hardcore fandom member, because I'm going to leave out some stuff and change everything and that's why this is called fanfiction, okay? Like the whole Sam/Amelia ordeal is not going to happen because a) She doesn't fit in with my timeline b) I don't like her enough to fit her in my timeline. If you're like most of the Supernatural-watchers I know who added Sam/Ruby to their 'Do Not Want' list, then I'm sorry but you have to endure them again, but fleetingly.

If you haven't gotten that far into the series yet and I just spoiled your life... then I'm sorry please forgive me read my story. I'm not sure how long this will be, because I'm writing it sort of alongside the series, like a slightly alternate universe where some of this stuff could have happened and most of it is canon-compliant. It also depends if I get tired of the story...

Also, the girls in the picture are my two main original characters. You'll meet them in the next couple chapters.

If you read this author's note, then thanks, but if you didn't then it's no sweat off my nose. If you guys don't want author's notes I won't give them very often, but if you do then I'll keep writing 'em.

love,

c.


	2. ii: same (charlotte)

chapter ii: same

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"_**I'm just the same as I was."**_

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November 2006.

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She had once told herself that she was never going to be that girl, waiting for ages by the phone, waiting for him to call. She had never planned to be that girl that could hardly think of anything but him, that spent ages pining for him in hope that he would remember her. She hadn't ever wanted to be that girl who was hopelessly in love with a guy who had loved her, abandoned her, and wouldn't call her. She had never liked the idea of being that girl that couldn't move on with her own damn life, who stayed stuck in her own little rendition of a happy past that had ceased to be. She had long since decided that she was never going to be that girl who was dependent on that guy and his affection. She was never, ever, ever going to be that girl.

She was tired of being that girl.

She was still that girl. She had always been that girl. She was just the same as she was when she last saw him.

It had been ages since she had seen him. It had been over four years since she had actually seen him in the flesh, and about a year since she had last talked to him over the phone. Aries had told her what must have been years ago to just 'pluck up some fucking courage' – a direct quote – and get over him. She had tried to convince her that the world wasn't going to end without him, that she still had her and Emily and her parents and everyone in Pieria. There was a life outside of everything that he had given her... or not given her. She had to realize that she could live without him, God, she had been living without him for the past four years just fine enough as it was. She had built a career without him, she had started a family without him, she had done so much without him.

God, she was pathetic.

But it was the little things that she hadn't done without him that made forgetting him so painful. They were the reason why she couldn't just give up on that man that had loved her, and left her and hadn't come back. He had called... and then he had just stopped calling. He had left her for good; she was sure of it.

Oh God.

Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no no no no no no no.

She was going to have a panic attack, right here, right now; there was no stopping it. It was here. She was isolated, alone, forgotten... he had forgotten her, hadn't he, because if he hadn't forgotten her why had he abandoned her? Why hadn't he called or come to see her? Well there was a reason for that, wasn't there, but she was certain he'd find her. He had once told her he could track anybody down. He was a hunter, he was her hunter... but now he wasn't, because he was somewhere else and maybe he wasn't a hunter anymore. Maybe he was dead. What would she do if he was dead? Would she stop loving him? Could she stop loving him?

God, she wanted to stop loving him.

She wanted to stop having feelings for him, she wanted to know if he was dead or alive, because then that would make this whole ordeal a heck of a lot easier.

If he was dead then she would know that he was done with her... or at least couldn't come back to her, and if he was alive then he was obviously avoiding her or didn't want to make the effort to come back to her, to call her again and remind her that he was still interested.

Maybe he just... wasn't. Maybe he had fallen out of love with her. Maybe he had met someone else. Maybe that man that she had fallen in love with all those years ago had changed, had started a new life that didn't include her.

But he couldn't have... not with...

But he didn't know about that. He didn't know about any of that, he didn't know about anything that had happened in her life, not really, not since he had seen her four years ago. He didn't know about... that.

She sighed, leaning on the kitchen counter. Why was this so difficult, why was she spending so much time wishing he was here, why didn't she just call him?

Because she didn't know if she could, that's why.

After she and Emily had moved from New York to Pieria to live with Aries, she had been given his new number by a strange man whom she had never met, and he had promised to never tell anybody and would keep where she lived a secret.

She hadn't asked him to, but knew that it was for the better because, once upon a time, she hadn't wanted him to stay and she knew that if he knew anything about anything that had happened in her life, he would run to her and try to hold on to her for as long as possible...

Unless he had moved on, and with the kind of jobs he was doing, he couldn't. She knew that he couldn't stay with her, couldn't stay with Emily even though she deserved it. But she was tired of being that girl that was waiting because she simply didn't know what else to do. She was tired of being that girl that was reducing herself to nothing without him.

She had to call him.

That was the only way she would ever know if he still loved her, still wanted her that was the only way he would know that she wanted him to stay with her. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn't help wanting him to be with her; she had tried the whole moving-on gig, and it hadn't worked – not at all. When she had been with Scott – as in been with, as in sex, as in sex with somebody else that wasn't him – she could only think about the other boy, _her_ boy with his chiseled jaw and bright green eyes.

She looked out the window as the miniature, carbon copy of herself ran around outside, squealing at the top of her little lungs and running away from her Auntie Aries. Aries playfully caught up to the little girl, and swung Emily over her wiry shoulders. The girl squealed with glee, squirming around and almost wriggling out of Aries' arms.

She picked up the phone, watching the scene unfold outside of her best friend playing with Emily. The little girl spied her mother in the window, and waved, her contagious, cheery smile stitched all over her face.

She had to call him. Emily deserved this. Emily deserved to know the man that had caused her mother such grief and such inarguable happiness. Emily deserved to know her father.

Aries deserved to meet the man that had changed her best friend's life forever.

She looked at the personal phonebook in her hand, with his number copied down in it. She looked at the curves of her meticulous cursive handwriting that spelled out his name as clear as anything.

She dialed the number.

First ring.

What if he had moved on? Then what did she expect to happen? What if he already had another kid? What if he had gotten married? What if he had settled down – something he said was impossible for him – with someone else.

Second ring.

What if he was alone? What if he was terrified of the idea of being a father? What if he just didn't want to be with her?

Third ring.

What if he couldn't come to them? What if he didn't want to? What if he didn't know what to do? What if he just hung up on her? What if he didn't know how to be a father and had no interest in learning? What if he didn't love her anymore?

Fourth ring.

What if he never loved her in the first place?

"What the hell, Bobby?" And there was his voice again. That voice that had strummed all the right strings, and made her fall in love with him all over again. She could barely breathe, God, she was going to throw up and hang up and never see him again. Oh God, oh dear, sweet, God she had to say something.

"It's not Bobby." And that was all that she could come up with. That was the first thing she had said to him in just under a year. That was the only thing she could think of to say because who was Bobby anyway, not her, that was for sure. What if it was somebody else in his life... what if his new girlfriend's name was Bobby, or what if hiss sexual orientation took a spin and he now had a boyfriend named Bobby? Oh God, he wasn't saying anything. She wasn't saying anything. There was just silence, and it was going to swallow her and eat her up.

"Who the hell is this?" Did he not remember her? She had practically counted on it that he wouldn't remember her. After all, it had been years ago, and they both knew he was a ladies man. She knew it had been bound to happen.

"It's..." She tried to get more words out but only one expelled itself. She wanted to say something else anything else "It's me, Dean." Dean. Dean. Dean. Deandeandean. His name was Dean Winchester. It was so good to say his name again. She missed saying his name. But then her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach... how arrogant of her to say something like that? How was 'It's me Dean' supposed to help her? What was she thinking? What if he said the wrong name? What if he had no idea? What if... what if, what if he didn't remember her? What if–

"Char?" Yes, yes, yes! That was her name: Char, yes, Charlotte! Yes, he remembered her. She could breathe again. He remembered her. He remembered her!

"I thought you wouldn't remember."

"You thought I wouldn't... Jesus Christ, of course I'd remember you." He said it like it was obvious. Charlotte grinned, unable to control herself from twirling around her kitchen like a schoolgirl in love. Emily, squealing, ran into the room as fast as her little feet would carry her, followed closely by Aries. The slightly taller girl frowned at the sight of her best friend cradling the phone against her ear, spinning like a madwoman.

"That's not Scott, is it?" Aries referenced the guy that Charlotte had tried really hard to like but just couldn't because he wasn't _him, _and idly tossed her long hair over her shoulder_,_ the notion that she already knew the answer to her own question written plainly on her face. Charlotte's smile only broadened in response. She shook her head, and looked down as her daughter ran past her, a toy car in hand. Charlotte tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder, squatting down to catch Emily around the waist and balancing the child on her hip. The little girl hummed into her mother's other ear, the one that wasn't occupied with listening to the comfortable silence stretching between her phone line and his.

She offered the next line in the conversation: "It's been a while, huh?" Because what did you say after it's been a year since the last time you talked to someone? What could she say?

She could hear him smiling on the end of the line as he spoke. "Yeah, yeah it has."

"God, I missed your voice." She had, she had, only the gods knew how much she had missed his low rumble of a voice.

"Me too, Char." He missed her he missed her he had missed her Dean had remembered her thank God. What he said next completely elated her. "Where are you?" He wanted to know where she was... which meant he wanted to visit her which meant that he wasn't seeing anyone, or too busy, or didn't hate her. Oh thank God, yes. This was good; this was such a good feeling.

"Number ten Perissa Beach Road, Pieria, California. Outside of Los Angeles." She gave up her address easily, silently mouthing words of joy to nobody in particular and reveling in the perplexed and amused look that adorned Aries' pretty face.

"Great." Great? Great? Great?! This was more than great; this was perfect. "See you in a couple days." Dean was actually coming to Pieria; she was going to see him again, this was more than great.

"I look forward to it." That was the understatement of the year. "See you, Dean." She didn't say 'Goodbye, Dean'. She didn't want to say 'Goodbye, Dean'. She had already said goodbye the day he had walked out of her side door. She said goodbye every time she had talked to him on the phone in earlier years. Charlotte was done with goodbye.

"Yeah. See you." Relief. He did a poor job of hiding the relief in his voice. She was thankful for this. She hung up with a sigh, and faced Aries' 'don't-think-I-don't-know-what-that-was-all-about- what-are-you-doing-Charlotte' look.

"Who was onna phone, mama?" Emily piped up, playing with the ends of her mother's long hair that had come loose from of the messy ponytail. Charlotte sighed again, meeting Aries' steady brown eyes, noticing one raised eyebrow. She planted a kiss on her daughter's cheek, losing the eye contact with her best friend to survey Emily's inquisitive expression.

"Somebody you need to meet, baby." She looked again at Aries as she tucked some stray wisps of dark brown hair behind Emily's ears. The child squirmed in her arms, and she gently set the four-year-old girl down on the kitchen floor. As Emily scampered away into the rest of the Pierian cottage, Charlotte rolled her eyes and braced herself for what Aries was about to say.

And as soon as Emily was out of direct earshot the slightly taller and slightly younger girl turned on Charlotte. "Really? Him, really? It's been what, a year since you last talked to the guy and now he's dropping everything and skippin' on down to Pieria? You got to be kidding me, Charlie!" Throwing her hands up in a characteristic sign of total confusion, she leaned on the counter and glared out the window. "And what are you going to tell him about the kid, huh?"

Right. What was she going to tell him about the kid, huh? What was she going to tell him about Emily? What if he couldn't handle being a father, and what if he got there and left... and what was she going to do? What if she needed to call him and tell him so that he could prepare for this? God, it was so selfish of her to think that he could stay. God, what would she do? She couldn't tell him. She had to call him and tell him that he couldn't come, because what if, what if, what if–

No. No, she couldn't do that. Emily deserved better than that. Dean deserved better than that. They both deserved better than a flood of Charlotte's horrible 'what ifs' and no real answers.

And that was why Dean Winchester had to come to Pieria.


	3. iii: a minute (dean)

chapter iii: a minute

* * *

"_**I need a minute to get my head straight."**_

* * *

November 2006.

* * *

Dean couldn't remember the last time he had been this nervous. Yeah, sure, he'd been scared before – loads of times, it was easy in his line of work to be terrified out of his wits and certainly nothing to bat an eyelash at – but this seemed to top everything. Because what was scarier than a woman who you've adored for almost six years and haven't seen in four?

The woman in question was Charlotte Orrantia.

How could he possibly forget Char, whose name was synonymous with tangled bedsheets and the smells of freshly-ground coffee and eating pumpkin pie with vanilla ice cream at ungodly hours in the morning and those romantic things he had always sworn he'd never do but ended up doing.

He couldn't.

As he drove the Impala down the winding beach road, Sam's gargantuan form in the passenger seat, Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, in tune to Zeppelin's 'Black Dog'.

"Uh, next right," Sam instructed vaguely, peering at the road over the map he held in his hands. Since they had never even heard of Pie-something – pie; that sounded like a good idea – which the town where Char was, Sam had insisted on buying a map of the area. God, he was such a chick sometimes. They didn't need directions, if it was near Los Angeles than they'd find it sure enough. But Dean figured that getting there faster was a better idea than getting lost, and since he could hardly wait to see the girl he hadn't seen in four years, it had been decided that they would take a fucking two-dollar map and not end up in some other buttfuck-nowhere town.

He turned the car onto Perissa Beach Road as the song changed to an Eagles tune that he couldn't quite remember the name of. That could have been added to the fact that he was so excited to see Char again that he couldn't quite remember his own birth-name, less the name of the friendly giant sitting next to him.

"Number ten, right?" Sam clarified. Dean didn't know why Sam was asking, he had given his little brother the address what must have been a thousand times.

"Yup." He answered solidly.

And then there it was. Number ten Perissa Beach Road, Pieria, California, United States of America. Two stories high, covered in sun-bleached and weathered pistachio – like the ice cream – siding, with white-painted wooden railings and window-frames, unruly ivy crawling up the right side of the cottage. A moderately sized yard that looked to border the front, one side, and back of the house with a bright and viney garden, barely contained by a rustic split-rail fence. At the smallish break in the fence there was a short and straight gravel path that led up to a small front porch with a lovely barn-wood bench swing. Dean craned his neck around to see a hint of a side and backyard behind the house, before the large expanse of sand and then the blue Pacific behind that.

Son of a bitch.

Dean had to admit that it wasn't reflective of the parts of Char's style that he remembered from all those years ago. He remembered a grand stuccoed house, with multiple balconies and a giant front and back lawn. He remembered a rich, classic Staten Island neighbourhood that housed spoiled little Lottie Orrantia, not this funny little cottage strip in the Golden State.

But everyone changed, God knew that Dean had.

"Are we going to go up to the house, or are we going to just sit here?" Sam asked gently, though with a mocking edge.

Dean didn't answer verbally, stepping out of the parked Impala and slamming the door as his only response to his brother's question. He heard Sam chuckle as the taller brother unfolded himself out of the car, and ignored it as he walked up the porch stairs. He peered through the screen of the white wooden storm door into the meticulously clean house – yup, Char definitely lived here – and rang the doorbell that hung aside the doorway. He stepped back beside his brother, making the effort to keep himself from bouncing on his heels, a nervous habit that he had had since youth. Fucking hell, this was the fucking weirdest moment of his life. Why was he regressing back to the jittery teenager-hood he had never had?

He needed a minute to get his head straight.

A pretty young woman appeared in the foyer, and answered the door. She frowned at him through the screen, and he frowned back because she fucking wasn't Char. This chick was blonde and freckled and looked nothing like Char except that her eyes were almost the same shade of brown.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as she opened the door politely. God, this was weird. Had he gotten the address wrong? Had Char not given him the right address? Son of a bitch. "Hi, uh... you're not..?" The blonde woman sighed, rolling her eyes in a fraction of a second before flicking her gaze from him to Sam and back again. Her brown eyes narrowed.

"You must be... Dean, right?" Wait, so if she wasn't Char, how did she know who he was? Was she a demon? He narrowed his eyes right back at her, his hand twitching towards the back of his pants, internally kicking himself where it hurt when he realized that he had left his gun in the car. Shit, hell, mother of fuck. He looked past the blonde woman-who-may-or-may-not-be-a-demon, seeing nothing except the empty foyer behind her. He decided quickly to play it cool, to not make it too obvious that he might have just clued in that he might just be walking into a trap. His fucking luck. Goes to see that girl, gets fucked over by demons.

"Yeah. Um, this _is_ number ten Perissa Beach Road, right?" He managed a small grin. Maybe she wasn't a demon? Maybe they had just got the address wrong, or this was the wrong house or something. Maybe Sam had led him onto the wrong road, or maybe Char lived on Perissa Beach Avenue or something slightly different. Blondie nodded, tucking some of her long hair behind her ears.

"Uh-huh," Dean watched as her eyes jumped again to his brother. They lingered there, before she looked back at him. The corner of her mouth twitched with a smile. "Uh, you're here to see Charlotte?" So, Blondie knew Char. Weird. A horrific thought crossed his mind in an instant – what if Char was a lesbian, or bi, or just had a thing with Blondie. What if this was his replacement?

Blondie was hot though, he had to give Char that.

"Yeah. Is she-"

"Here! God, Dean..." And she was there. In the flesh. Right in front of him. It wasn't the same to hear her voice over the phone, to imagine what had changed about her features or remember what she felt like. She didn't look much different; her sun-tanned, Hispanic-influenced skin still glowed the same, her brown eyes were still adept and assertive, and her long, dark-brown hair was wavier, hanging slightly shorter than he remembered and loose down her back. God, how was he expected to be calm at a time like this, with her looking so incredibly kissable and itchingly touchable and way more mature than she had been four years ago. But essentially, she was the same. She was his Char who tied her hair up when she was concentrating on something, who made the best coffee he had ever had, who had lain beside him in bed for hours when her parents weren't home, who had snuggled up next to him after their first sexual encounter wearing nothing but his old and worn olive-green t-shirt and still managed to look sexy as fuck.

"Char..." He breathed. The woman in question pushed past Blondie, who quickly stepped out of the way lest she be run over. Dean embraced his girl – he hoped it was still okay to call her his girl, she had felt like his girl for going-on-six years – tightly in his arms, catching her waist with one arm and a handful of her loose hair in his free hand; her own arms wrapped around his torso, holding on like she would fall if she let go. "I lost your number," he whispered weakly against her temple, the four words acting as an apology for the loss of contact with her he'd experienced in the last year. Char only breathed out peacefully, and he relaxed considerably as he felt her body adjust to fit his embrace. He closed his eyes as he buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in her smell. She smelled different, but he supposed that that was natural. She obviously didn't work in that New York coffee shop anymore, and the smells of coffee were replaced with the unusual smell of saltwater, like the Pieria air. She smelled clean, like always, a sharp contrast to his usual odours of beer, his leather jacket, and sweat. He could feel her smiling into his shoulder, and felt his own grin broaden. Char moved her head, kissing him soundly, gently on the lips. His head spun just like it had the first time he had kissed her, and he hungrily returned the gesture. Now in a totally different head-space, he only half-listened to the verbal exchange between his brother and the blonde as he focused on being in the same place as Char again.

"Hey, I'm Sam." And Dean swore he could hear them shaking hands just from the sheer politeness of it all. He didn't care that he was kissing a girl right next to his brother, he didn't care that Blondie – who still didn't really have a name – saw either, because he was back with his girl.

"Aries, hi." And then Char detached herself from him and his lips felt lonely, but she still had a hand on his back, drawing shiver-inducing lines on the fabric of his dark-grey t-shirt with her fingertips.

"Well, uh, come inside, Dean, Sam?" Char stretched out a fine-boned hand to shake Sam's, and Dean watched as Char's hand was practically swallowed up by that of his brother.

"We'd love to." Dean answered for both of the Winchesters. He caught both his brother and Aries with fairly amused looks on both of their faces, but the looks quickly metamorphosed into politely composed smiles.

As he entered the cottage for the first time, Dean was immediately swept up into a world, of which the likes he had never encountered before. It was clean-kept, something almost unfamiliar to the Winchesters, but there were certain signs that somebody who wasn't a neat freak like Char lived here – the bookshelves were filled with volumes of different sizes and thicknesses that looked to have been thrown on or hastily put away, all of the furniture was mismatched, and there were specific areas of clutter that he supposed were attributed to Aries. Dean kicked his shoes off and slid them out of the way, gesturing for his brother to do the same. Sam did so, though admittedly more refinedly. Dean continued looking around, noticing the bright whiteness of every wall and the distinct ocean-meets-tribal motif that unified all of the rooms.

"Um, Charlotte?" As they stepped down the few foyer stairs to the living room, Sam's voice interrupted Dean's surveillance of the house. Char made one of her cute, inquisitive noises that Dean had sorely missed. "Who's that?" The elder Winchester looked to see what his brother was talking about. Across the room, there was another staircase that led up to the second floor, and about halfway down the staircase stood a little girl who couldn't be older than five – or maybe she could, children weren't Dean's strong point – with light-tan skin, long brown hair, and dark eyes; the few-shades-paler spitting image of what Dean assumed that Char must have looked like as a kid.

"Sweetpea, come meet Sam and Dean Winchester." Char called, parting from Dean and moving towards the girl. The mini-Char obediently ran to them, hiding shyly behind Char's legs. "This is Emily, my daughter."

Son of a bitch.

Sometime between the time she had met him and now Char had had a kid.

Had there been someone else? Even just once?

He could barely stand thinking about it. On one hand, he was praying that it was somebody else who had knocked up Char, but on the other, he couldn't bear the idea of her going that far with anybody else. Especially after her obvious interest – what the hell else could you call that greeting kiss – in him.

After he got over his momentary fear of the kid, Dean did the only thing he knew how to do, the one thing he remembered about kids from seeing people gush over his baby brother – when Sam had, in fact, been a baby and a lot littler than he was now. He squatted down in front of Char, turning on a warm gaze and smiling at the young girl. "Hey, I'm Dean. It's nice to meet you, Emily." He used the tone he used to use when talking to little Sammy and dumbly extended a hand to shake; kids didn't shake hands. The girl only looked at his hand, then looked up at her mother, who offered a smile – thank God – back down. Emily, still with half of her face buried in her mother's hip, mimicked Char's smile and, surprisingly, took Dean's offered hand. He shook it up and down – gently, of course – once before released it and letting her use it to clutch Char's leg again.

"Hi," it was the smallest and most adorable noise that Dean had ever heard, the voice of this miniature carbon copy of Char. The elder Winchester stood up, and as if on cue, the younger knelt down on the ground to introduce himself to Emily.

"And I'm Sam. I'm Dean's brother." The taller man flashed one of his winning smiles, extending his hand like his brother had done. Emily shook his hand as well, gravitating slightly out from behind her mother.

"Brofers?" She asked curiously, and Dean's lips quirked at the mispronunciation. "Fey have a same mama and papa, right?" God, this kid's speech impediment was cute. She looked up at her mother to answer her question. Char nodded.

"Yup." Sam replied instead. Emily's dark eyes – they were brown, like her mother's, he could see that now – widened with this new information. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" He questioned, and Dean dreaded the answer, though he knew his brother was only asking to make small talk with the kid in a way that would make her just as valuable to the conversation. He had seen Sam do this on multiple occasions – Sam didn't exactly know what to do with kids, per se, but he knew how to talk to people and make them feel important. But Dean still didn't want to fathom the idea that there were more mini-Chars running around, being either Dean's kids or someone else's.

Thankfully, after frowning for a moment to serious consider Sam's inquisition, Emily shook her head.

"No, it's just me an' mama an' Ria." She replied, looking up at the two women, who both smiled down at her. Dean caught Char's eye, and she flashed him a winning smile as well. God, it was so good to see her smile at him again. It was weird, though, to hear her addressed as a mother, although the title fit her nicely.

"So, can we interest you two in sitting down?" Char offered, gesturing to the lovely wicker-frame couches and chairs that were positioned around the living room, the body cushions all sorts of patchwork patterns. Dean and Sam obliged, Dean sitting down beside Char and Sam sitting on one of the comfy-looking armchairs. Dean was very aware of a smaller pair of dark brown eyes on him as Emily snuggled herself into Char's lap. He looked over to see the young girl watching him intently as she played with her mother's hair. Aries perched on the end of the couch by Dean's shoulder before clasping her hands together.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Water, homemade iced tea, soda, beer?" She listed off a few options on her fingers.

"Water, thanks." Sam replied, and Dean knew that choice was because he didn't want to drink in front of the kid. It was just a fuckin' weird Sam quirk... but somehow, the older brother saw the sense in it now.

"Same." Dean smiled up at the blonde girl.

"I'll have my usual." Char said, muffled through her daughter's fingers playing with her lips. She blew through them, making a raspberry sound, and Emily giggled. Dean grinned at the sound. If all little kids were like this, he wouldn't mind being around them so damn much.

"Ice?" Aries inquired.

"That'd be great, thanks." Dean replied. Sam just nodded, and Char shook her head.

Aries smiled in response. "Come help me be a good hostess, Miss Emmy?" She suggested as she stood up, extending a hand to the little girl. Emily scrunched up her face – a thinking face, perhaps – and sighed before letting her mother pry her off of her lap. Dean watched as Aries took the little girl's hand and they ran into the next room: the kitchen, presumably. Char smiled warmly after them, sighing softly as Dean settled an arm around her shoulders.

"She's cute." Sam told, a strange smile on his face. Fuck, was he thinking about how much he missed out on normalcy? Was he regretting abandoning Jessica that night that Dean showed up, or thinking about the perfect little brunette and blue eyed kids they could have had?

"Which one?" Char teased. Sam's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, but he got the joke and chuckled. Dean refrained from laughing, and instead favoured grinning like an idiot. Sure, he too had seen Sam check out the blonde woman as she walked away. Hell, if Dean hadn't already discovered something – Char, obviously – that he found more appealing, he would have done the same as his brother... who desperately needed to get laid. Aries was good-looking, that was for sure. But so was Char, and Dean would rather have her any day.

"Both." Sam joked back. His brother made a mental note to rib Sam as often as he could about that remark. Sam was never going to forget that choice of words, not if Dean had anything to do with it. Char smiled and shifted slightly closer to Dean, which made him feel like Sam should be anywhere else but this room and that he should close a door and leave Dean and Char alone. "Emily seems like a great kid, though." Right. Children. Children present meant no sex. Now what the fuck kind of rule was that? The dark-haired woman nodded.

"She is. Gosh-" Dean's lips twitched into another smaller, gentler smile as he remembered that Char didn't swear or use what could be considered vulgarity, a sharp contrast from pretty much every goddamn word in his fucking vocabulary. "-she was the easiest baby. Rarely fussed... everyone in Mommy and Me was jealous."

"Is that like a group for new moms?" Sam asked. Dean wouldn't have been surprised if Sam was secretly a mother himself; he was totally getting all of this parent and mom and kid stuff that was way over Dean's head. He had a sudden image of Sam in an apron, nursing a baby and shuddered.

"Mostly, yeah. It was one of the groups back home, more of an upper-middle-class moms' group – I didn't want to deal with any of the super-duper-rich ones." This somewhat surprised Dean... Char had always been happy in her high socioeconomic class. "It was fun; there were expecting mothers and ones with babies and ones with toddlers. We met once every week and talked about how our kids are progressing, concerns. Sometimes we did barbecues or pool parties, but mostly we just met at the park or one of our houses." Dean nodded like he knew what she was talking about, although he sure as hell had no idea.

Luckily, Aries and Emily came back from their beverage mission. Aries was holding a tray of drinks with a pitcher of ice water, and Char's daughter was, very studiously, carefully carrying a tall, transparent-blue glass of iced water. The blonde woman followed her as she carried it to Sam, who took it gently and thanked her. Dean smiled as Aries handed the kid another glass of water – a sea-green glass this time – and Emily brought this glass to him. He thanked her as well as she retrieved her mother's drink – a small bottle of Perrier – and presented Char with the green glass bottle.

"I still don't get how you drink that stuff..." Aries locked her eyes on her friend's drink, a mildly disgusted look on her face. Char shrugged and took a swig as Dean and Sam shared an amused glance. Aries set down her own glass of what was probably the homemade iced tea that she had mentioned before – it looked like literal hot tea that had just been sitting in the fridge – and pulled Emily into her lap as she sat down on another cushioned chair, handing her best friend's daughter an translucent plastic glass of dark liquid.

"Whatcha got there, sweetpea?" Char asked warmly, but with an undertone of suspicion. She raised an eyebrow as she waited for her kid to answer.

"Purple grape juice." Emily replied mischievously as she settled into Aries' lap. Char frowned at both her friend and her daughter.

"Ar..."

"It's a special occasion!" Aries argued. Char rolled her eyes, sipping her Perrier and resting her head on Dean's shoulder. God, that felt good.

"What's the deal about grape juice?" He asked.

"Stains." Char replied with one word, displacing her head from Dean's shoulder. "You ever tried bathing a kid who poured an entire bottle of Welch's over herself?" Aries snickered. "The girl's a total magnet for stains. And who gets to wash them out?"

"You!" Emily pointed a finger at her mother, smiling devilishly, and the cup of stains threatened to slosh past the brim and onto Emily's light denim shorts. Aries laughed, a gentle, unfamiliar sound to Dean. He was used to Char's bubbling giggles and husky chuckles, not... this. Charlotte sighed – now _that_ was a sound he was used to.

"You betcha." Dean rubbed her shoulder farthest from him, his fingers catching on the strap of her Ramones tank top and dragging it to her bicep. He quickly replaced it. As much as he wanted to start something that didn't involve this tank top, he thought it best not to start it while his brother, her best friend, and her daughter were in the room.

"So how do you two know each other?" Sam gestured to the two women.

"High school, actually." Aries began, taking a sip of her drink. "We both met in our victory lap year. Charlie was in the, uh, we ran into each other and just sort of started talking, I guess." Alright, Dean had interrogated enough people to know that that fucking wasn't the whole story. He would press Char about it later.

"And then Aries moved to school here, and I had Em and lived in New York with my parents." The other girl explained. "Then last October they moved to Canada after a bunch of bad stuff happened, and I came down here, moved in-"

"The first thing she did when she set foot in this house was clean everything. It was horrible-"

Char shot her friend a glare as she cut her off. "Anyway, I finished up my undergrad program at the college here just earlier this year, and nothing much has really happened since then." She shrugged, lifting her limber legs up on the couch and tucking them gracefully under her.

"Undergrad program?" Sam clarified. Great, now they'd be fucking talking about college for the rest of their life. Dean and Emily were the only ones who hadn't had any post-secondary experiences – did college girls that Dean have sex with count – and Emily had a reason – because she was four years old! And now Mr. Stanford would talk and talk about GPAs and SATs and FYIs and whatever the fuck else college people talked about. Dean slouched down into the sofa cushion.

"Dual major in religious studies and Spanish. Aries did-"

"Fine art. Only I finished the grad program." The other woman supplied, crossing long, lightly tanned legs and adjusting a sprawling Emily.

"They have art colleges?" Dean asked as Emily used the power of suction to get the now-empty juice cup to stick to her mouth without her hands. He mentally slapped himself for asking that question, suddenly aware of the fact that he might have offended Char's best friend. And if he knew anything about best friends of girls he had a thing for, it was that they were not, under any circumstance, to be messed with. But Aries only nodded and gently removed the cup from her friend's daughter's mouth.

"Some places are, yes, but this one just had a program." She took another sip of the cold drink.

"Cool." Dean looked into his water glass, swirling the ice cubes around. "So, what kind of art do you do?" Most of him didn't really give a fuck what kind of art Aries did, but the other part of him was genuinely curious. How do you study art? Why would you study art? How do you get a job in fucking drawing or making popsicle-stick houses?

"Well, I'm a painter, mostly." Cute. The girl fucking paints. "But I do some designing for film and theatre... mostly film." Yeah, so Dean didn't know what that meant. He gave a small 'oh' and nodded like he understood.

"And what are you up to, Char?" Dean asked, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Well, when I moved here I had to quit my jobs – I worked at the coffee shop and this really classy French restaurant – but my boss at the restaurant had connections here with one of the local restaurants, Galazios. It's Pieria's only high-end restaurant, really-"

"And it's Greek cuisine that's pretty close to the real thing. Reminds me of Greece a lot, actually..." Aries said wistfully. "We like to go visit mama at work sometimes, don't we, Em?" She then asked the girl in her lap, who was trying to braid the long blonde hair in front of her but was really just twisting it around. Emily nodded, not looking up from her activity. "We should all go, sometime, when you're not working?" She asked Char, who smiled and nodded enthusiastically in response.

"Of course! So, anyway, there are me and three other girls who are..." She chewed her lip for a moment as she thought. Dean watched intently. "We're hostess-waitress-bartenders, I guess you could say. There are hosts and servers and bartenders, of course, but we sort of do everything. Our boss refers to us as assistant managers, but we can't use that label professionally for some reason. I think it's because there's more than one of us." She shrugged. Sam turned to look at Aries.

"Wait, this is unrelated, but if I heard correctly, you say you've been to Greece?" He inquired. The blonde shrugged, flipping hair over her shoulder. Dean snickered, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"I guess you could say that." She smiled as she spoke. "Born there, lived there for a while." Dean could practically hear Sam's jaw hit the floor as it dropped. Greece had always been on Sam's to-visit list, something about the foundation of democracy and academics or some crazy geeky historian shit like that. And then to meet a girl that was actually from-Greece Greek? A gorgeous girl that was actually from-Greece Greek? A girl from a country on Sam's to-visit list would surely make the top of his to-do list. Aries wouldn't even have to try to get laid at all, just snap her fingers and then Sam would be in a state of undress and ecstasy that Dean wished his brain hadn't just forced him to think about on that train of thought. Ugh, fucking hell.

"Mama?" Emily jumped down from Aries' lap and padded over to her mother. "I'm bo-ored." She declared, drawing out the 'o' in that more-whine-than-a-vineyard way that kids do. Char and Aries shared a long glance – long enough for Emily to slide down to the floor and attempt to worm her way under the couch – before the blonde rolled her warm brown eyes.

"Let's go play outside, Em." She suggested, yawning slightly and getting to her feet, stretching her arms up – her cropped lace top riding up even higher to show more of her taut, tanned belly; Dean watched as Sam's eyes glued to the bare skin of the Greek girl – before swallowing the last of her drink. Emily whirled around, grinning wildly, her eyes bright with the idea of play.

"Okay!" She agreed, jumping up on the couch to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Bye mama," she said. Dean started as Emily sat in his lap next, weighing almost nothing, and kissed him on the cheek as well. He had never been kissed by a kid before, and was amazed at how fleeting and... butterflyish it was. "Bye Dean," her sequence moved on with Sam, repeating the same sequence of actions. As the little girl bounded away, Dean thought of how delicate she was. She was just a little kid, like Sammy had been, and just as precious. God, this kid was fucking adorable, and way prettier of a child than Sam had ever been – although, even Dean wouldn't admit it, Sam had been a surprisingly cute kid, as kids went.

For a moment, Dean really truly honest-to-God wished that Emily was his daughter.

"Bye, baby!" Char called after the girl. Aries followed Emily out of their view, and Dean continued to observe that Sam was watching after them.

"So, what have you two been doing?" Char asked. Sam shrugged, looking at Dean for a cue. Right. Sam didn't know that Char knew, therefore thought she didn't know and now he didn't know what to tell her. Right.

"She knows, Sam." The elder brother reassured him. Sam nodded, relaxing considerably. "Same old stuff, I guess. Gankin' spirits and ghosts, mostly. A few demons and monsters, and we even had a couple witches and a pagan god, once." He continued proudly.

"Any luck on finding _the_ demon? The one that... you know?" Her voice was tender, as gentle as possible, but it still made Dean's jaw clench. She was talking about the demon that had killed their mom... and then their dad.

He had known that she was going to ask at some point during their visit, he just hadn't known that it was going to be now.

He wasn't ready for it now.

'You'll never be ready,' a voice in the back of his mind reminded him cynically.

As much as he hated to admit it, that voice was one-hundred percent, undeniably right.

He would never be ready.

"Well, Dad found it, but he, uh... he..." He cleared his throat, his eyes trained on the same spot on the floor that Sam's eyes were trained on. Fuck. "Yeah." Because what else could he say? What else could he say without totally breaking down? And then Char's arms were around him, holding him and comforting him and doing more for him then any amount of booze or any motherfucking therapist could ever do. He clutched her, not caring that Sam was still present, closing his eyes tightly, his breath shaky with the attempts not to cry. He hadn't really cried about losing his father, not a good long cry. He supposed that filling one of the voids – the void that had been lack of Char – in his chest was just as tear-inducing as gaining another gaping hole – his father. Dean shuddered against her as she rubbed his back, whispering soothing words in his ears. He envied Emily for a brief moment – how come she got the best mom in the world? He felt a small smile form as he realized that he didn't have to envy the kid. She may have the best mom, but he had the best girl.

He opened his eyes at the slight noise of Sam getting up from his chair, blinking back tears, and walking out of the room. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Char, his breathing slowing and evening out. He was okay again, even if only for a moment or too. He knew he had to face this fucking terrible fact that his father, his role model, was dead, but for now he could just be with the girl he had missed for so long.

In that moment, he felt more whole than he had been in a long time.

In that moment, he kissed her.


	4. iv: tired (aries)

chapter iv: tired

* * *

"_**Your eyes look tired."**_

* * *

November 2006.

* * *

If Charlie shirked her maternal responsibilities for the entire time the Winchesters were here, just so she could spend time sucking face with her white knight, Aries was going to kill her. Not that she didn't love Emmy to little itty-bitty pieces, but Aries was especially fond of her own time and her own life. Which wasn't to say that she regretted offering her house as a place for her friend and her daughter to live, because it was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened, but Aries hadn't yet started her own family for a reason. Well, multiple reasons.

One being that she was still young – twenty-three was still considered young, right – and had her whole live ahead of her and could have kids whenever she wanted, really. She wasn't in any rush.

Two being that she was just at a turning point in her career, and she didn't have time to juggle her long hours in Los Angeles and a baby.

Three – this was probably the most influential – being that she just hadn't found a guy whose child she would be willing to carry. Of course she had always been sexually involved – when the relationship turned to a sexual base – with awesomely attractive guys, but none of them were really daddy material, or it didn't work out, or whatever.

There were other reasons too, of course, but these were probably the major ones.

"Ria, push me!" Emily demanded as she climbed onto the backyard swing. The blonde woman smiled at the young girl and closed her eyes as the warm, salted-air breeze washed over her.

"Nicely?" Aries reminded her friend's kid. She was sure that she could hear Em's eyes roll, an unfortunate habit that she had picked up from her Auntie Ria.

"Pleeeeeeease?" Emmy wheedled. Aries grinned.

"I'd be happy to, Em," she stepped over to the swing and made sure that the four-year-old was holding on securely before pulling the swing back and letting it go. The little girl laughed with glee, which made Aries' smile get bigger. Sure, sometimes the kid was a bit of a pain, but Aries loved her to death.

She was surprised, however, to see Sam Winchester duck out of the green cottage and slip his shoes onto his feet. She smiled again when he walked towards her.

"Hi Sam!" Emily squealed. Sam waved at her before moving ducking out of the way of the girl's flailing legs and standing beside Aries.

"Third wheeling not your thing?" She joked, frowning as she noticed a sad look in his eyes. "Hey, you okay?" That was a dumb question. He was obviously not one-hundred percent okay. Fifty, maybe. Forty, more likely. But Sam nodded, scuffing his feet into the grass and leaning on one of the poles that supported the swing set.

"You're not wearing any shoes." He pointed out, totally avoiding the question. Aries raised one blonde eyebrow and humoured him. She shook her head.

"I rarely do," was her answer for him as she gave Emily another push on the swing. He looked up and gave her that look that she was used to getting, the 'wow, you're a really weird kinda human' look, the smile-frown-sort-of-grimace, head-cocked-to-the-side-like-a-perplexed-dog kind of look. "My parents didn't really enforce it when I was a kid." She explained. "And then when I moved to New York City, shoes were sort of a mandatory thing because, well, like, broken bottles and needles and rusty metal and basic American paranoia... stuff like that." She scrunched up her face in memory of the time one of her older brothers, Leo, got a piece of broken glass embedded in the arch of his foot. "So my feet were basically in prison for twelve years, except when we went back home. But Pieria's a pretty clean town, so I can get away with not wearing shoes so much." Sam chuckled, and Aries found that she liked the sound. The deep rumble of his voice reminded her of mountains, and her mouth twisted up into a smile at the memories. "It's like home, almost."

"So, which part of Greece are you from?" Sam asked. Aries had been able to tell when they were inside that he was interested in the whole Greek thing, but wasn't sure why. She was eager to find out, and just as intrigued to have somebody interested in her background. When she told people she was born in Greece, they often asked her if she'd met Hercules or Caesar... to which she would reply that that was either the Roman spelling of Heracles the Greek hero's name, or that that was a totally Roman emperor. That was when they gave her that funny look again.

"Athens," she replied.

"Affens?" Emily twisted around on the swing.

"It's a 'th' sound again, Em." Aries reminded her gently. Emily had always struggled with 'th', and she was working on it at daycare and with Charlie, but she still hadn't quite gotten it. Oh well, she was only four, there was still time. "A_th_ens." She repeated. As Emmy tested out the name, chanting it out quietly, Aries turned back to Sam. "I lived there until I was seven, when my siblings and I moved to live with my aunt and uncle in New York."

"You have siblings?" He inquired. She nodded, pushing Emily again before holding up her hand and counting on her fingers.

"Two older sisters, Libra and Aquaria, and two older brothers, Leo and Scorpio." She sighed. Sam raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle..

"Five kids, all with astrological names." Aries nodded, impressed that he picked up the connection so quickly. Probably with all the studying of lore that he did – yes, Aries knew about that, she knew about all of it, because Charlie had told her, and Aries was crazy enough to believe it.

"We're named after the signs we were born under." Her lips twisted into a nostalgic, laughing grin. "Aquaria would have been 'Aquarius', but she was a girl, and even my parents had to draw a line somewhere." He grinned, evidently amused, and that comforted her enough to continue. "Sometimes we'd joke about what would have happened if we had been born under Cancer or Virgo, or if two of us were born under the same sign." She looked to the ground, embarrassed that she had told him that. She chuckled, and he laughed with her before smiling at the grass. "Sorry," Aries apologized, looking him directly in his eyes that were just as brown as hers. "I'm usually quiet, I'm not used to talking to strange people." She said honestly, then frowned. "Not that you're strange or anything, just... you know what I mean." She waved the thought away with one slender hand. Point number one to introversion.

Sam smiled and exhaled loudly before he spoke again. "So, what do you do? Professionally, I mean." She watched as he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, deciding that he must be crazy to be wearing pants when it was hot out. Then the notion struck her that he and Dean probably didn't have California-happy clothes, because of their travels and they probably wouldn't spend long in hot states anyway, when they were dealing with their cases. She blinked a few times to redirect her thoughts back to the conversation that she and Sam were having, not the one that she was having with herself.

"I'm in the film biz." He raised his eyebrows, and she reveled in the moment of 'oh my God this girl's an actress' Sam was obviously stuck in before explaining the reality of it. "It's just design, hair and makeup, really..." She shrugged. To her surprise, he didn't look any less interested, just unsure as what he should be saying, because what do you say to someone like that? 'Oh, yeah, I've seen your name at the end of the credits that I totally took the time to slow down and watch entirely' or 'You're my favourite non-credited artist in that really successful film' or 'Wow I'm a big fan of your work that I am totally able to identify because I think what you do is so important and really stands out' or 'That movie starring a bunch of famous and talented actors would have been nothing without those costumes that you designed for that one group of extras'. Sure. Right. Like that was ever going to happen.

"Oh. Cool." That was what he decided on, and she was glad that it was something so simple. It sounded genuine enough, and that was good enough for her.

"And you?" She directed the question of professions at him. She knew what he did for a not-living, but was certain that he wasn't going to say it.

"Me?" She watched as he subtly fidgeted, totally unsure as what to say next. "I, um, I'm a cop." He continued, masking his hesitation well. Aries mused that this guy could be a swell actor, if his job wasn't already practically written in stone. Her mouth twitched as he lied, but she decided against calling him out. She felt sorry for Sam, dragged here by his brother's hormones and heart. What was there for Sam here? Nothing, really, except a friend in Aries Thalas.

"Oh? Where?" She asked politely, pulling a hair elastic off of her wrist and twisting her long blonde tresses up in a knot at the top of her head. She watched Sam's eyes as they followed her actions. He cleared his throat.

"Lawrence. In Kansas." He replied without missing more than one beat.

"Really? Huh..." She chewed on the thought of Sam as a police officer. He'd look good in a uniform, that was for sure, but she wasn't sure if he had what it took. Who knew, maybe he did. Leo was a police officer in Chicago, and he was one of the people that Aries had least expected to be in law enforcement. Libra was the most likely out of all of them to be involved in that kind of stuff, and the oldest Thalas child – thirteen years older than Aries, which made her thirty-six – had proved the youngest right by having worked as a cop before moving to some secretarial department of the FBI, to actually being the case manager for the BAU. "That's neat, Sam." She smiled up at his tall form, having noticed the almost-a-foot difference in their heights when she first saw him on the other side of her storm door. She furrowed her brows as she looked at him. Genuinely curious, she posed her next question: "Hold up, are you a Sampson-Sam or a Samuel-Sam?"

"A Samuel-Sam," he replied amusedly. She grinned.

"Good. Sampson-Sams are always pretentious." She frowned again. "Or dogs." Samuel-Sam chuckled. "I'm not kidding, half of the Sampsons I know are German Shepherds." Her tone was serious, but she knew that her expression was giving her enjoyment of a lighthearted topic away.

"How many Sampsons do you know, then?"

"Two." She stilled the swing as Emily made attempts to get off, her eyes flicking to observe the road as a white Porsche pulled up on the curb, unable to fit in the driveway because of the Winchesters' car – an Impala, she was impressed to note. Aries rarely saw them out and about, much less one that was made... from the look of it, oh, mid-seventies, maybe a few years earlier? She'd have to ask one of the brothers later.

"Efan!" Emily ran to the end of the yard in excitement as a familiar handsome form swung himself over the fence. The young man adjusted his mauve wife-beater – Ethan Fox was probably the only straight guy in Pieria that could get away with having mauve in his closet – and lifted his sunglasses over his hairline, revealing his stunning grey eyes.

"Hey Emmy-girl," he tousled the girl's hair with one large, tanned hand before continuing over to the two adults. He greeted Aries with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Hey babe." God, she loved his voice, and the fact that he had a lilting Liverpool accent gave him even more sex appeal points. She smiled at her boyfriend – it had been just over a year and a half that they had been together – and settled into him as he wrapped an arm protectively around her bare waist – her crop top allowed for a large portion of midriff to be displayed because a) It was hot because they were in California, and b) Aries had worked on her beach body for ages and was proud to show it off. Ethan's muscled arms held her tightly, roughly, and she quickly tuned into what he was doing. She had already dealt with the protective boyfriend crap many times throughout this relationship – it wasn't his fault, his last girlfriend was totally toxic and basically fit every textbook case of a horrible girlfriend to a t – but Sam was no threat to Ethan. Aries watched as Emily held onto his free arm and twirled herself around. She sighed softly as the two men eyed each other fiercely.

"Ethan, this is Sam." She spoke gently, firmly, gesturing with one slender hand to the extremely tall man next to her.

"Sam..?" His tone was confused, and he slowly stepped away from his girlfriend to penetrate Sam's personal space. "Want to tell me what you're doing with my girl, Sam?" Ethan raised his eyebrows, flashing a sarcastic smile before letting his jaw set. If Aries had to deal with Ethan's ruffled feathers around Sam ever again, she swore she was going to get him neutered. She mentally reminded herself never to date another boy she met at work, even if he didn't exactly work there. But no more of these guys that had anything to do with the movie business. Or maybe just no more European boys. Or maybe just no more of these dumb boy-creatures.

Sam's eyes shifted from Ethan to Aries. He looked back at the British boy with ferocity, but when he looked at the blonde, she could see his nervous confusion. Boys, boys, boys. And then there was her own boyfriend puffing himself up like a freaking rooster, and she knew that he wasn't going to try anything stupider – meaning physical meaning violent – yet, but he just looked so unbelievably dumb. "Um," his brows knitted together in a tight frown. Aries gave Sam a reassuring glance, then deciding to interfere in the situation and cut off Ethan's testosterone's rant.

"Ethan." Was all that she needed to say as she took hold of one of his wrists and pulled him back to her. He replaced his arm around her, cupping her hip, still glared stonily at Sam, who confusedly looked from Aries to Ethan and back and forth and back.

"Um, I didn't know you two were..." He pointed to both of them with that bewildered expression on his face before clearing his throat. "Um, I was just," he held his hands up defensively as he gently tried to explain.

As Ethan placed his other arm around Aries – they were in a weird side-hug-thing and she wasn't a fan at all – Sam steeled himself, and Aries caught a glimpse of the hunter inside him. "You were just what?"

Sam was about to answer, but Aries cut him off. "Play nice, Ethan." She reprimanded her guy, swatting him in the chest.

"Want to tell me who this clown is, luv?" After giving a long, threatening look to Sam, Ethan directed a sharp glare in her direction, and she shook away from his grasp, giving him a fierce one of her own. Emily giggled, diffusing the tension... thank God.

"This is Sam, Efan." She said as she hopped next to Sam.

"Sam Winchester." She had hoped Ethan would have understood when he heard the last name, but all she got was a blank look from him. "_Dean_ Winchester's brother." Aries explained curtly, unhappy to have to spell everything out for him.

"Dean? Ohhhh. You mean, like, Charlotte's Dean?" Ethan proverbially backed up, eyes wide, looking slightly sheepish. And... there was the real Ethan. The charismatic, all-bark-and-no-bite, mildly wimpy Ethan.

"I guess so." Sam replied coolly through a granite-clenched jaw.

"Ace, alright, sorry mate." He reached out one tanned, smooth hand to shake Sam's. The taller of the two looked at it tentatively before meeting Ethan's grey eyes again. "Ethan Fox, great-nephew of William Fox, founder of Fox Film Corporation." Sam raised his eyebrows, obviously recognizing the name. God, she wished that Ethan wouldn't include that in his introduction. Although she knew many people who included accomplishments in their initial greetings, Aries found it a little bit strange and a lot of bit conceited. Well, she worked in an industry where there was a lot of conceit, so she was used to it, on some level, but it still sort of rubbed her the wrong way.

"Oh, okay. Sam Winchester." Sam finally shook Ethan's outstretched hand, dropping it as soon as possible and keeping up his guard. The Brit let loose a shaky laugh from his lips.

"Kinda got the message, aye? So what brings you here?" He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand that wasn't holding his girlfriend and tried to strike up a new topic of conversation that he was comfortable with.

"It's more about what brought Dean here, actually." The Winchester brother responded, his body relaxing noticeably.

"Ah, that'll do it." Ethan tittered tensely, flashing Sam a smile that would look bona fide to anyone but Aries. "Smashing," he turned to the blonde to give her his actual loving grin. "Right, well, Aries, this is me coming to tell you that the Thunderbird's ready to be picked up." She smiled up at him thankfully. Her normally trusty red car was old, and had been having some typical old car problems as of late. Ethan and his brother, Elliot were mechanics – neither of them were really interested in participating in the movie business – and had fixed the '55 Ford Thunderbird up for what must have been the umpteenth time since she had moved here. Ethan hopped from foot to foot. "And, uh," his eyes flickered towards Sam, who was at that moment letting Emily stand on his large feet. "I was wondering what you're doing later tonight." Aries sighed.

"I'm busy, Ethan." She replied apologetically. "Sam and Dean just got here, so Charlie and I are settling them in." Her boyfriend didn't look happy about it, but he didn't have to be because it had nothing to do with him. She loved Ethan, but she could see him almost any time – when he wasn't working he was always at the studios hovering over her shoulder or here or taking her out places – and he wasn't a guest. If her aunt Andromeda had taught her anything, it was that guests always came first.

"No, no, it's fine. You go, we'll be fine." Sam protested.

"Sam..." She shook her head at him, biting her lower lip as she figured out how to reply. "Ethan, some other time, okay?" He frowned at her, and she cupped his scruffy face in both hands before kissing him on the nose. Yes, she was using her 'womanly wiles' to her advantage, yes she was pulling the I'm-your-girlfriend-let-me-do-whatever-I-fucking-w ant-to card, yes it was working, no she didn't care that she was using her 'powers' to get what she wanted. It worked with Ethan, and she didn't abuse the girlfriend card a whole lot... when she did use it, however, if she had paid for it she could say that she had definitely gotten her money's worth. "We're busy, babe." She stroked his jaw before kissing him again, this time soundly on the lips. Aries felt him tense up suddenly in surprise, but his muscles unclenched as he leaned into the kiss, his hand curling against her hip once again.

"Okay, okay." Ethan pulled away from her, smiling. "Fine, another time." He looked at Sam proudly, as if to say 'fuck yeah I just kissed her, ain't fucking nothing you can do about it' but the Winchester boy only looked away awkwardly, obviously embarrassed to have to go from third-wheeling his brother and Charlie to third-wheeling Aries and Ethan.

"I'll call you later, alright?" Aries reassured Ethan.

"Yeah, sure." He nodded, beginning to walk away before abruptly stopping and turning back. "Um, I'll tell Elliot to drop the T-bird off tomorrow, yeah?"

"That would be wonderful, Ethan. Thank you." Her voice hinted a purr, and she flashed an award-winning smile in his direction. He blinked before reconstructing his expression into his normal weirdly-giddy-Ethan-what-did-you-have-for-breakfas t visage and walking backwards towards the fence.

"Fantastic. See you both! Bye Emmy-girl." He waved goodbye to little Emily, who had abandoned Sam and was now lying on the swing, her midriff on the swing and her limbs and long braid of hair hanging down onto the grass.

"Bye Efan!" She launched herself off the swing, ran to the end of the fence that the Brit had just jumped – he never used the gate, thought it was 'a waste of bloody time, if you ask me' which of course no one ever did – and waved madly as he got into his spiffy white car and drove away. She promptly flopped down on the needed-to-be-mowed-soon grass, picking up individual blades and trying to whistle with them like Aries had tried to teach her.

Sam cleared his throat. "So, that's your..?"

"My boyfriend, yeah." Aries looked down at the ground, suddenly realizing the extent of the awkwardness that Sam must have felt during that exchange.

"He seems cool." He gave her a small smile, like he was trying to reassure her that he didn't think Ethan was so bad, though he evidently wasn't too fond of the guy he had just met.

She beamed up at Sam. "He's alright, yeah."

"He's very..." He looked up, thinking of the right words to say. He totally caught her off guard when the word of choice was: "English." Aries chuckled, knowing all the things that he was trying hard not to say.

"Yeah, um, he's a bit of a jerk." Sam laughed at that, a contagious laugh that inspired her to do the same. "But hey, he can actually be pretty great, once you get to know him." She shrugged, sticking her hands in the pockets of her short blue-denim shorts. Ethan was a jerk, yes, but he was also quite awesome. Excellent, even. Fantastic, for sure. After all, she had fallen in love with him so he couldn't be more of a jerk than a great guy. She hadn't ever had a real thing for bad boys – well, fictional bad boys didn't count, did they, because if so then she still had a massive crush on John Bender from 'The Breakfast Club', all of the Outsiders, and Maverick from 'Top Gun' – so it wouldn't have fit for her to be in such a wonderful relationship with one. No, Ethan was a good guy. His older brother, Elliot, was a bit of an upside-down kind of guy, but Ethan was just fine, unless you were a male taller than him who was talking to his girlfriend, or, really, any guy who was talking to his girlfriend. Okay, so maybe Ethan was the jealous type. But that was okay, right? Jealousy was a totally normal thing.

"I bet." Sam replied, pensively looking past the backyard and the sandy beach to the ocean. Aries watched as his brown eyes fixated on the waves, caught up in the current. She remained silent, so as not to disrupt his train of thought. She knew a thinker when she saw one, and, well, she saw one. One of the weird things about Aries was that she had a great love for watching people think. Her dad, Jason Thalas, was a writer, and in his study, under his desk, was where little Aries had kindled her love for thinkers. She used to sit there as he leaned back, staring out the window at the bright Mediterranean sky, catching glimpses of the words and pictures that danced behind his eyes, waiting in agony for them to be transferred – handwritten; her father had never supported typewriters so much and even now didn't like to use the computer – onto paper so he could read them to her in their native tongue. Jason had started going blind in the past few years, which frustrated him immensely and killed Aries on the inside. She couldn't imagine a world where her father wasn't writing.

And so she only stand there, trapped in her nostalgia as the man who was not her father, who was Samuel-Sam Winchester, blinked a few times in succession, signifying the end of his thought sequence.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked softly after a few moments of silence, making sure that he regained his bearings. He shook his head slightly, flashing her a joking grin, but his eyes looked tired.

"Not for just a penny," was his lighthearted reply, but she knew he knew what she was doing. He knew that she was studying him, gently, but observing him to piece together the mystery that was the Winchester brothers. He knew, and so he had to stop the conversation stream there. Because he knew.

What he didn't know was that she would have given him more than a penny for his thoughts, if he had only asked.

* * *

**note:**

So now you have met all of the main characters. I hope you were polite when you introduced yourself to Charlotte and Aries. They're new here.

Review please; I'd really like to know what you'd like to see happen in this story. I have a plot, albeit a flexible plot so if there's something you're dying to read then I can see what I can do for you. If there's something that you think would be cool to have in alea iacta est, then tell me because I'm a fan of cool things. If something's grinding your gears tell me, and I might be able to oil those gears out a little bit.

Live fabulous lives,

-c


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